Dark Souls: Legacy
by Imikid
Summary: When the Lords of Cinder abandon their thrones, the Unkindled rise to claim their cinders. This is not an epic spinning its tales about the greatest of the Unkindled; it is merely another chapter in a legacy undying...


Stinging cold governed all senses as a thunderous bell echoed through renewed hearing; but as more the bell tolled, the more a comforting warmth began to grow within him. Thought returned to him, and with it his mind's eye. With it; it painted a portrait of a flame that spread throughout his body starting from his heart, which beat with renewed vigor. A deep inhale and his lungs filled with air as he felt his arms and stretched out his fingers. He reached and touched cold, grey stone and his hands became ablaze with effort as he pulls himself out of this open grave. He exhales slowly, ash drifting from his mouth as more pours from his body in seemingly unending waterfalls. Another inhale, but this one invites floating ash into his esophagus and he starts to cough hoarsely; forcing his weakened body to his knees, the grave being his only brace to lean on.

He breathed again, slowly and carefully. Sight came to mind and he finally allowed his eyelids to flutter open like an old shade being opened after years of neglect. An iris made from the brightest turquoise and another seemingly made from a pure but chaotic flame observed his surroundings; it brought to his gaze a grey world of overgrown grass, dead trees, and an overwhelming number of gravestones piled upon one another. His gaze lowered to see the ash-filled coffin he knelt within and he slowly lifted himself to his feet to leave this unsettling spot. Unsure feet stumbled as he climbed out of the coffin, but quickly confidence returned to his steps and little-by-little his body remembered it's strength and its old habits. A fleeting memory even reminded the young man of how he stretched his jaw and neck so that he would not develop a soreness after short rests. He did this and the loud popping sound that followed echoed through the empty, grey world. Painful relief brought with it a small smile to still lips that felt as though they may bleed from sudden use. He started to roll his shoulders and further stretch his arms so that they could experience the same relief, the refreshing actions erased the stiff feelings that plagued his body in these last few moments.

However, his smile faded and his footfalls ceased as the view of a hooded figure came to his attention. Whoever this person was, they were covered in a tattered cloak; barefoot, scrawny, pale, and their mouth seemed ever agape in a sluggish manner. In their hand, they wielded an aged and rusted long sword that their hand seemed to tighten around the hilt of as they began staggering toward him; a crackling growl escaped their maw. The young man wanted to back away, his instincts sensed a malicious intent from the approaching figure and implored him to retreat. Yet his legs did not budge, and his body remained poise. His sight lowered from the approaching figure to his defiant hand, which closed into a hardened fist as a familiar sense of thrill spread from his tightening arm muscles and into his heart. The memories of his body returned to him, the memory of a joy he had all but forgotten about; the love of using that which came natural to him. His legs took a step apart to steady himself and his gaze returned to the figure whose pace quickened and their sword hand rose to strike.

The figure lunged and the boy stepped forward to meet it. His fist smashed into the figure's wrinkled face but its blade sunk into the boy's shoulder and it forced him to retreat with a painful grunt. The figure stumbled backward but within moments it lunged at the boy again; but this time the boy's body responded instinctually and without hesitation as he suddenly slapped the figure's sword away in a parry. Caught off guard, the figure's sword arm is flung to the side and his body is left wide open. The boy's knuckles cracked as he tightened up the fist of his other hand and he threw out a powerful punch into the gut of the figure. The decaying skin burst from the sheer power of the impact and aged blood erupted from the hooded figure's abdomen as the boy pulled his arm back and launched another punch at the figure's head. He connected with a sickening _crack_ and the figure is hurled backwards into a pile of gravestones with a loud thud. The boy glared at the figure; mentally inviting it to stand up again, but the figure lied still and limp. The boy approached carefully and kicked the figure's leg lightly with no response. Concluding that the figure was dead, the boy slowly rotated his wounded shoulder as he knelt beside the figure and then peeked under its hood. What he saw sent a cold shiver down his spine.

The creature's face was frozen in sorrow and hopelessness, its eyes as black and as empty as a blank canvas of nighttime. Its skin was pale and shrivel; and as the boy glanced down toward the creature's wound, he saw colorless blood that was now beginning to crust. This creature was a walking corpse. An undead. But no ordinary one. Another memory made itself present from the fog of an amnesia-ridden mind; this boy had encountered creatures such as this before, and they had a common name and a specific description. Undead with a thirst for souls instead of blood, souls because they themselves were an empty shell, a walking void: Hollow…

The boy stood up, and he wondered as he glanced back at the coffin he had awoken in; ' _Am I an undead as well?_ ' The possibility was a strong one, and one that gripped his heart with fear. An instinctual need to keep moving conveniently pulled the boy out of his wandering mind and he continued along a precarious path. Cautioned with doubt, the boy left the coffin and the hollow behind to continue through this twisted cemetery.

Similar encounters with other hollows repeated themselves as he traversed the cemetery; all of them combated him with an old blade and sluggish movements. The venture offered the boy a chance to reacquaint himself with his body; with abilities of his own that were once lost to him. His fists, his bare hands; his weapons of choice in even the deadliest of duels. His body's natural reaction while combating these creatures brought back faded memories of strict lessons in an environment that left his body numb, yet he could still hear a faded voice commanding him to continue with his regimen. These memories in training also granted him another memory; allowing himself a moment of pause as he glanced down at his chest. Gently, he pulled away his gold-hemmed robe and his fingers traced a swirling burn scar in an area that he surmised was just above his heart. In another moment of clarity; his hand released his robe and rose to touch the left side of his face, where he felt another severe burn scar that plagued a good portion of his face. It was then that the boy came to the realization that the palms of his hands had suffered a similar wound. His remembrance of these scars culminated in one final memory: how he earned these scars. These scars were self-inflicted, the result of foolishness and arrogance. Through it however; he gained a respect for and garnered the respect of, the flame. _His_ flame! Suddenly, an arrowed tipped with its own flame pierced straight through the boy's back and out of his abdomen! The boy roars in pain and falls to his knees, turning his sight to see another hollow knelt through a stone archway and armed with a crossbow. The hollow wasted no time in reloading another arrow but the boy climbed to his feet with gritted teeth and livid eyes locked onto his new adversary. His energy pulsated and traveled through his body and gathered in his right hand; he lifted it as it began to glow a fiery red and the hollow took aim. The boy began to walk toward the hollow with a glare and the hollow fired; the boy merely sidestepped the arrow.

The hollow reloaded, and the boy continued to walk.

The glow became an aura of fire that engulfed the boy's hand.

The hollow aimed and fired another bolt.

The boy ducked beneath the high-aimed bolt and his hand burst with an even greater flame that the boy grasped like an orb. The boy rose and threw his arm back before he launched it forward and hurled the fireball into the air. Like a stone released from a catapult; the fireball spun through the air and splashed violently into the hollow. It instantly set the undead creature ablaze and it screamed in terror. It took no time at all for the screams to silence out and the hollow collapsed in a smoldering heap. The flame dissipated from the boy's hand and he released a heavy sigh. He grasped the head of the arrow and sucked in a sharp breath just before he outright ripped the arrow through his wound and out of his body, his lips barely contained a painful grunt.

He eyed the arrow then throws it away, releasing his breath in annoyance. "Gods; burn in hell you horrible, festering mother-fuck!"

He released another heated huff then proceeded along the path just beyond the crossbow hollow. He ascended a small hill and is greeted by a midmorning sun and a small chill of the open air. Beyond the cliff could be seen a snow-kissed mountain range that stretched as far as the eye could see. As he scanned the horizon the boy also became aware of the structure that towered to his right and it caught him off guard. It was a castle, the grandest he had ever laid eyes on to his limited knowledge. Its towers reached so high that the boy has to stop searching for their tops else he fall over on this uneven ground. After some time gawking at the structure, he decided to continue up the trail in his search for…something. Something to tell him what to do and where to go. 'Where' seemed to be the one word that continuously echoed in his thoughts; he had no knowledge of where he was and how he got here to begin with. He couldn't even remember anything prior to awakening in that coffin outside of some shards of memory. Though ironically; the cool air brought with it a familiar comfort, a welcome coolness that reminded him of a silhouette in the distance that he used to call 'home'. An odd sight pulled him from his thoughts; a sword, curled and twisted, buried in a mound of ash and embers. He felt a sense of calm as he gazed upon the sword and within the same moment he is startled by a phantom as it ran out of him and touched the hilt of the sword. He then watched on as the phantom promptly sat beside it with a relieving heave of the shoulders. As the phantom faded from view, the boy glanced back and forth from the sword to the spot where the phantom was with a suspecting eye. Hesitantly, the young man took careful steps toward the sword and reached his hand out. His fingers touched the hilt and the subsequent flash of flames made the boy jump, but the sudden and inviting warmth quickly came to comfort him and he noticed that the warmth seemed to even heal his wounds. He stepped closer to the sword and sat beside it, bathing in the healing warmth it generated and a small smile reached his lips once more.

' _Well…this isn't so bad at all…_ ', he thought to himself warmly. As he sat at the bonfire, the boy's gaze surveyed the area beyond. This place was rocky, with hills stacked upon each other. And the boy could see even more hollows within the areas nooks. With a light sigh of stress, the boy climbed to his feet and continued along the jagged path.

This was when he came across it. Fighting his way through more frail beings; the boy came face-to-face with the entrance of a ruined rotunda. The ancient place was about as grey as the rest of the cemetery and even more tombstones dominated the ring. Curiously, a gargantuan tree could be spotted to the boy's left and its roots held tight to an equally-large coffin that appeared to have been opened some time ago. Its likely owner – the boy thought – could be the kneeling figure aptly placed at the center of the rotunda. It appeared to be a statue appropriately placed on a lone island of stone and candles surrounded by some small amount of water. Within the statue's chest was another curled sword and the young man approached it, none-the-wiser as to what might be waiting from him either in this rotunda or what lied behind the door beyond. However, his curiosity was peaked as he peered upon the back of the statue; where some sort of oily, black growth seemed to have planted itself. It seemed almost alive as it swirled vigorously. Eyeing the growth suspiciously, the boy touched the coiled sword expecting another burst of flame; but alas nothing happened. In this same moment, a faint sound reached his ears. The sound of a faint breath! At that moment, the boy came to a horrifying realization that this was no statue, it was a living being! And worse still, this being was most likely suffering from being sheathed to this sword! The boy reacted in blunderful strides; grasping the hilt of the sword and yanking as hard as he could on it. With a determined effort, he managed to rip the sword free and the giant's shoulders heaved with relief, releasing a heavy gasp in response. The young man grinned at the bloodied sword; proud of himself for being able to free the giant. But the grin fainted as he glanced at the armored being and saw it reach for a tilted column buried in the ground next to them. With minimal effort, the giant plucked it from the small patch of stone and revealed it to be a halberd! Before the young man realized what was about to happen; the giant spun with surprising speed and smashed the boy with his weapon, sending him tumbling across the water. The boy came to a painful stop and he groaned in pain, prying his eyes open just in time to see the giant about to land on him! His body snapped into action and he rolled under the giant just as the metallic being landed and caused a small dust cloud to erupt around him. The boy then saw the giant's body begin to twist and his arm wrench back; he foresaw a possible attack and steeled himself to respond.

The giant spun and lunged with his halberd but with a powerful backhand the boy parried this giant and forced him to stumble forward. The boy then formed a claw with his right hand, eyeing the fresh wound that the curled sword left on the giant's body. With the anger of this giant's attempt on his life despite freeing him from the curved sword; the boy lunged and thrust his hand into the open wound. He didn't care what he felt or what he was about to grab within; he just grasped what he could and ripped it out of the giant. The giant fell back in pain and the boy foolishly thought that his maneuver had ended this contest. He could not have been more wrong. Instead the giant recovered surprisingly swiftly and lunged back at the boy. He plucked the boy off the ground and without hesitation stabbed the tip of his halberd into the boy's lower torso. The boy shouted in pain but it fell upon deaf ears as the giant swung his halberd and flung the boy across the rotunda. The boy tumbled head-over-heels then shoulder-over-shoulder before he finally met stone steps with an ash-covered crash. His anger continuously grew with his body being racked with pain; but this anger brought with it a new memory, a memory of a name. This name aroused the flame within him that now begged to be released through his very skin. The boy found his feet and climbed unto them as suddenly the grey giant began to transform; the growth on his back grew at an alarming rate, absorbing the upper echelons of the giant's body. Dark roots extended from the giant's morphing arm to become a claw and from his shoulder came a hideous maw that gave a chilling shriek. The boy looked upon this new form with a heated gaze. He raised each hand and spat into them in an acceptance of challenge and from his raised right hand a gentle flame flowed from his skin and engulfed it in a blazing aura.

"Ashen judge...my name is Tse of the Flickering Flame," The young man stated, not realizing that he referred to the giant as something he did not know about "Bring me a fantastic fight!"

As if accepting the boy's challenging words, the giant leaped through the air again and once again the boy tumbled away as the giant landed and destroyed the steps. And once again the giant spun but this time swiped with its claw where the boy narrowly back stepped away from it only to see the gaping maw bearing down upon him. The boy gritted his teeth as a suicidal though prompted him to step into the creature's mouth and raise his arms. The creature clamped down on the boy but Tse managed to keep its maw agape through sheer strength, blood seeping down from his arms as teeth pierced the skin. With an audible grunt, Tse freed one of his arms and summoned a fireball into his hand before he tossed it deeper into the creature's mouth. The fiery eruption caused the creature to scream as it flailed its head in pain and launched Tse into the air. The young man tumbled through the air and slammed on the ground with a splash and an audible shout of pain. The giant turned to the fallen boy even as the creature writhed in burning agony and it brought its halberd to bear with a hammer strike. Tse was only barely able to notice this and he mustered the effort to roll away from the falling halberd. The impact the young man made with the ground still reverberated along his sore muscles and aching bones, but his instincts commanded him – no, _forced_ him; to carry on the fight. He would not let this sodding giant defeat him because of the earth's pull; if this fight were to end with his death, then he would meet in with a fierce charge! As the halberd crashed into the stone before him, Tse jumped to his feet and ran onto its thick neck in a charge against the giant. The giant in turn reacted instantly and ripped his halberd out of the ground in another eruption of earth; but Tse used the dramatic change in the weapon's momentum to catapult him into his attack. With his hand still ablaze, Tse curled his fiery fingers and buried his fist into the dark mass that surrounded the giant; igniting the creature once again and forcing the giant to stagger backward. The boy landed on his hands and feet but scrambled to continue his offensive, he formed flaming orbs and hurled them at the giant until he felt that he could not through anymore!

Fatigue at last took Tse's legs and he collapsed to his knees breathlessly just as the now smoldering giant did the same, but promptly fell forward and crashed into the stone. The black mass retreated into the giants back, signaling an end to their contest and a sudden silence returned to the twisted cemetery. Tse watched the giant keenly to ensure its defeat when suddenly a burning sensation erupted within him. Horrifically, he coughed a puff of embers as he felt a fire spread through his body without resistance. The feeling was over as soon as it began, and Tse felt renewed energy fill his aching limbs. He glanced up to see that a new bonfire had mysteriously appeared in place of where the giant was knelt to begin with. Tse climbed to his feet with a loud groan and staggered over to ignite the fire and rest beside it, heaving a sigh of relief at its healing energy. As his wounds were mended, Tse stared spitefully into the soft flames before his gaze slowly turned toward the closed doors at the opposite end of the rotunda. With an irritated huff, he wondered what lied beyond those doors…


End file.
